


Personal Grievance

by Diary



Category: Still Star-Crossed (TV)
Genre: Awkwardness, Bechdel Test Pass, Canon Character of Color, Drama, Established Relationship, Established Rosaline Capulet/Benvolio Montague, Family, Friendship/Love, Insecurity, Interracial Relationship, Late Night Conversations, Marriage, Misunderstandings, POV Male Character, POV Multiple, Post-Canon, Pregnancy, Romance, Sleeptalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 11:02:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11690283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: “In fairness, you knew you were marrying an idiot when you said, ‘I do,’” he tentatively offers. Complete.





	Personal Grievance

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Still Star-Crossed.

“If you’ve taken a mistress, simply tell me.”

Shocked, Benvolio looks up from his breakfast.

His thoughts he must have misheard are squashed by the determined glint in Rosaline’s eyes and curl of her mouth.

Now, he knows why Livia isn’t joining them and there are no servants. He’d thought the two were connected. Livia is at times in delicate health and insists on staying in her rooms. When this happens, Rosaline often talks privately with him. Sometimes, they can figure out something to do for her sister, and sometimes, all he can do is comfort her as best he can.

“I haven’t taken a mistress. What on Earth brought this on?”

Her face is unchanging. “Fidelity is a forgivable vow to break, but tell me, now, Benvolio Montague, if you have broken it, or be guilty of breaking your vow to always be honest to me.”

He almost scoffs. He almost brings up his opinion _she_ is the one to break both vows in a sense.

Instead, he reminds himself she might be carrying their child. They’ve managed to broker a peace he never would have believed possible between him and the pretty but snobby maid he watched their respective family heirs do an unbelievably stupid thing with. He and her sister will never be close, but he doesn’t want to do anything to further damage the poor girl, and explicit marriage troubles between him and Rosaline certainly would.

“Rosaline, I haven’t taken a mistress,” he quietly tells her.

She studies his eyes for a long moment.

“Very well. If you’ll excuse me, my lord.”

Before he can stop her, she’s gone.

Sighing, he wonders if he should talk to one of his friends. A few of them are married, and though, they don’t seem to be particularly happily so, perhaps, they can still give him some helpful advice.

…

The new architect is skilled, but he and Benvolio disagree strongly on Benvolio’s continuing presence at the site of the cathedral.

“My lord, please, get off that scaffold! Carefully. Very, very carefully.”

Rolling his eyes, Benvolio slides down and doesn’t laugh at the pained look this causes. “It’s good to get the structure used to the weight and movement of people.”

“Yes, the weight and movement of workers, not you, my lord.”

“And peasants,” Benvolio reminds him.

When reconstruction first started, children took to running through and hiding in various nooks and crannies. Less concerning, some of them took to nicking whatever they could get their hand on.

Benvolio had the workers start putting brightly coloured ropes around areas unsafe and demonstrated what could happen if they weren’t heeded. He hadn’t been sure what to do about the thievery, but somehow, this has more-or-less worked itself out. Now, most of the children are content to talk to him or beat him at chess.

He strongly suspects the fact he’s never grasped how to play the game properly, whereas, most of them only have to play a game or two with Rosaline to know the nuances of it might have something to do with this.

Smiling slightly, the architect sighs. “Yes, my lord. But you can’t just climb up on things without a worker ascertaining it is safe, first.”

“I’m not going to damage anything,” he promises.

He knows the cathedral won’t be finished by the time any children of his and Rosaline’s are grown, but God willing, their grandchildren will get all Romeo and Juliet didn’t and more.

“As we’re doing, mortar, bricks, wood, and glass can all be replaced in time, but a Montague dying or being seriously injured, that cannot happen.”

“If it does, all will be well,” Benvolio assures him.

His imprisoned uncle and the aunt who flits around the world staying with lovers and outliving husbands are the only Montagues left. His uncle will never have another child, and his aunt will never have any.

Rosaline and Livia are the only Capulets, but they are well loved, and presumably, both can have children.

The city is desperate for there to never be another war between Montagues and Capulets. If both houses fell, it would both solve and cause so many problems. However, if only one of them fell, it might solve all problems.

Benvolio desperately hopes neither he nor his house falls anytime soon, and that the latter never does, but prison, the war against Paris, and his marriage have all given him plenty of time and motivation to figure out such things and come to peace with them.

…

When he gets home with the newest blueprints, Rosaline comes and sits on his lap. “I’m sorry for earlier.”

“Is everything alright? Why did you ask such a question?”

Sighing, she puts her head on his shoulder. “I don’t know, my love. I- Is everything alright with you? Are you happy?”

Puzzled, he answers, “Of course.” He reaches up to play with her hair. “Everything is going well with the cathedral, and all our tenants are well taken care of. How’s your sister doing?”

“Better, as of late. It’s kind of you to ask.”

Carefully sliding her off his lap, he stands. “Perhaps, the three of us can have a picnic in the garden tonight.”

He rarely sees the star-eyed girl with a head full of dreams Rosaline once knew so well, but Livia does love night-time picnics, and Rosaline is always so happy when her sister shows genuine enthusiasm for anything.

…

After the picnic, he kisses her cheek. “I’ll be in my chambers again tonight.”

“If you wished, I could join you,” she offers. “Simply for sleep, if that’s what you’d prefer.”

She seems a bit- nervous, perhaps.

He doesn’t know why, and worse, he truly wishes she hadn’t just asked the above.

Most peasants have no choice but to share a bed, but many noble men and their wives maintain separate rooms. For some time now, he’s been sleeping in her bed, but they came to an agreement at the beginning of their marriage: Barring an emergency, neither would ever enter the other’s chambers without express permission.

He knows the best way to handle this is either agree or say he’s changed his mind, go to hers, and wait for her to fall asleep before sneaking out.

Yet, he can’t bring himself to. Denying her permission and dealing with the potential fallout is better than the feelings lying next to her would provoke.

“No, thank you. I have much to do. Sleep well, Rosaline.”

“And you, husband,” she replies with a small curtsy.

…

One of the peasant children who often visits the cathedral is a mute girl. She’s rather good at being unseen, has as much use for the other children as they have for her, which is none, can’t tell certain colours apart from others, and has a skill for sketching.

He’s helping her with her shading when she suddenly reaches up and presses her chalky hand against his face.

Sighing, he says, “You know that takes forever to clean.”

Shrugging, she looks past him and inclines her head.

Turning, he sees Rosaline.

Jumping up, he rushes over. “Is everything alright, Capulet?”

Unlike many of the higher classes, he neither worries nor cares when she leaves the house without him. She and Princess Isabella are overseeing the construction of the city’s new library, and she often checks to make sure the kitchens tasked with giving one hot meal a day to every citizen requiring it are fulfilling their purpose, but it’s rare for her to come here.

Looking at his cheek, she laughs and digs out a handkerchief. As she cleans the spot, she answers, “Yes, everything is wonderful. Come home. We need to talk privately.”

…

When they get home, he grouses, “I don’t see why you couldn’t tell me in the carriage, at least. If you and your sister are well and the royal siblings are well, then-”

He abruptly notices she’s led them to her bedroom.

“Rosaline, what’s going on?”

Reaching over, she puts his palm against her stomach. “It’s been confirmed, my love. I’ve not had my flow for three months, and today, Midwife Lisa did an experiment with a rabbit, I won’t go into the details right now, but-” She gives him an unusually shy smile. “We’re going to have a baby.”

Letting out a laugh, he kisses her. “Oh, my love-”

Sitting on the bed, he gently guides her onto her back and carefully moves his hand over her stomach. “Do you have any feelings on what it might be?”

“No.” Stroking his arm, she continues, “I suppose you hope for a son?”

Lying down beside her, he responds, “I hope for a healthy baby.” Kissing her cheek, he wishes there were a way to slip his hand past her dress and undergarments to rest on the skin of her stomach. Making do with setting it back where it was, he asks, “Is it too soon to start thinking of names? Do you have any names in mind? If we do have a boy, there’s no one in particular I want to name him after or for, but I’d like our daughter to have a modern name. I see too many bright, lively girl children with stuffy, severe old-fashioned names.”

“As long as she can have my mother’s middle name,” she says.

“Fair enough.” He laughs. “I suppose we might as well make it four names. You’ll always be a Capulet to me, and with Livia often being called by her maiden name- The child will be both Capulet and Montague. Our baby, but a symbol of peace and hope for the city, as well.”

“Yes,” she agrees somewhat distantly.

Kissing her, he promises, “Things will be better for him or her than it ever was for us. I swear to you that.”

She nods. “Perhaps, in a year or two, we can give this one a sibling.”

He smiles. “That would be wonderful. Perhaps, we’ll have one of each.”

Resting his head between her shoulder and neck, he concentrates on the feel of her stomach underneath his hand. It’s too soon for kicking, he knows, and there’s no true roundness to her stomach, yet, but soon- Soon, it’ll be clear she’s carrying their child, and then, he’ll be holding his son or daughter. He hopes any of their girls will take after her in colour. Any boys- well, a healthy boy is the most any man could ask for. It’d certainly make her happy, he knows, if her son resembled the prince more than him.

Taking a breath, he firmly orders such thoughts away. He is going to be happy about his child. His child won’t be a bastard, won’t be the product of some reluctant union with some woman his uncle managed to force him into holy wedlock with, and if a boy, won’t end up dead at sixteen due to some ridiculous feud between two families with more money and power respectively than sense and decency. 

Despite taking precautions, he was always half-afraid of what might happen if Stella conceived his child but refused to marry him.

Rosaline squeezes his hand, and he firmly pushes those thoughts away, too.

…

Coming across Livia carrying some laundry, he says, “I’ll get that, good sister.”

She hands it to him. “Thank you, my lord.”

“God willing, you’ll soon have a niece or nephew,” he announces. “Did you know you were to be an aunt? I know Rosaline just found out for certain, but she said once before you have an ability to see when a woman is pregnant even before they show? Do you have any on what our child might be?”

He realises he’s talking fast and loud, but thankfully, he sees her face is amused.

“I thought there was a good possibility of it, and I wasn’t truly surprised when the midwife confirmed it. When she begins to show, then, I’ll likely know if it’s a boy or girl.”

“Good.”

They get to the laundry room. “Lady Livia- will you help me? I know Rosaline would never do anything to harm the baby, but sometimes, she can become engrossed in projects and forget to eat and sleep properly. Will you help look after her? Whenever I try to get her to relax for a bit- well, you know how she gets.”

He’s guilty of getting engrossed, too, but Rosaline simply has his tools taken away, food put in front of him, and wraps around him in bed. If he got angry, she’d handle it with the same calm, firm handling she does against his protests and babbling about why his project is important.

She smiles. “Of course.” Reaching over, she touches his arm. “I’m glad she married you, Lord Benvolio. You make her happy.”

“I try.”

…

After supper, he sighs in relief when he can slip his hand under Rosaline’s nightdress and rest it properly on her bare stomach.

“Because of you, all the servants now know,” she says. “It won’t be long until the whole city does.”

“Good. The more well-wishing prayers, the better.”

Kissing him, she starts to guide his hand. “Even with the baby, we can still be together. It won’t harm him or her.”

Withdrawing his hand, he places it on her cheek. “I know, but not tonight. I’m tired.”

Making a soft noise of disappointment, she presses closer against him. “At least, stay here tonight.”

Wrapping his arm around her, he kisses her hair and says, “I love you.”

It’s the truth, and hopefully, it’ll free him.

Sure enough, she accepts this and slowly falls asleep.

Kissing her cheek and rubbing her belly one last time, he carefully detangles himself and leaves.

…

“Why do you not visit my bed or allow me to visit yours anymore?”

“Won’t your sister be joining us for breakfast, my love,” he inquires.

He isn’t sure what’s gone wrong, but Rosaline has become increasingly dissatisfied with him, and much as he once did with Romeo, he’s started to view any meal involving Livia with relief and any meal without a potential danger. His uncle wasn’t exactly shy about berating him in front of Romeo, but Romeo did object, and so, his uncle largely took to doing so when his son wasn’t around.

Rosaline might have been content, once, to air her grievances in front of her sister, but now, she is desperate to keep everything calm and, if possible, happy for her sister.

“No,” is her short answer. “Do visit brothels? I suppose, that might technically not fall under the definition of taking a mistress-”

Setting his spoon down, he pushes his bowl aside. “I’ve touched no one but you since we wed, wife.”

Unlike you, he doesn’t say, with your dreams. No old lovers visit mine, but you, what you don’t do in deed, you do in your heart.

Alarmingly, it looks as if she might cry.

“Rosaline, what- what is making you so unhappy and suspicious of my motives? I’ve heard pregnancy sometimes plays havoc with the mother’s emotions, but I don’t think that alone is it. I don’t come to your bed at night, and I want privacy in my own room. Neither makes me a bad husband. Have I done something bad? If so, simply tell me plain. You’ve always been good at that, eh, Capulet?”

Both thankfully and frustratingly, Livia appears. “Rosaline, I’m so sorry, I know you wanted private time alone with your husband, but Isabella is being completely unreasonable about a serving girl who was caught stealing. Will you please come talk to her?”

“Right away,” Rosaline agrees. “Unreasonable how? And what’s this woman’s name?”

Getting up to help Rosaline put her cloak on, Benvolio gives Livia a quick kiss on the cheek.

…

Persistent knocking forces him into consciousness, and grumbling, he sits and looks at his clock.

Stalking to the door, he opens it and starts to demand- “Rosaline. Is everything-”

She grabs his hand, and the feeling of the baby- his son or daughter is so strong.

Their baby is kicking.  

“Come in, my love,” he says. Reaching up to wipe away the tears falling from his eyes, he closes the door and leads her to the bed. “Tonight?”

“Yes,” she answers. “Livia should be able to tell soon which they are.”

“Good.” Lifting up her nightdress, he kisses her belly and, through a wince, laughs at the damage to his mouth by the kick. Looking up, he takes her in. “Can you believe it, Rosaline Capulet? Soon, you and I will have a baby. A beautiful girl or a strong boy, both Montague and Capulet.”

She wipes his tears. “Sometimes, I can’t. But all the pain we’ve both suffered, I’m so glad you and I and, now, our baby came from it, Benvolio Montague.”

“So am I.” Crawling up next to her, he wraps around her.       

…

“My lord, may I talk frankly with you?”

Startled, he looks up from his chiselling to see Livia standing uncertainly nearby.

“Lady Livia, my good sister, of course. Come, let’s sit in the shade.”

He leads her to the garden bench under an old tree. “Everything is alright with your sister and our baby?”

“Oh, yes, Rosaline is just fine, and so is the baby,” she hurriedly assures him. Then, taking a deep breath, she continues, “Um, I’m not sure if telling her about this- My lord, for months, there’s been a distance between you and her. Why? After everything the two of you have been through-” She trails off.

He’s come to realise there’s eventually going to be a large problem. It’s hard enough lying next to her, but knowing what he knows, he doesn’t think he can ever bring himself to know her in a biblical sense again.

No doubt, she isn’t going to take kindly to this.

No doubt, if she decides to take a lover in response (and he knows who’d it be), he’ll simply need to accept it. For both her sister and child’s sake, she won’t take him to the courts over this, though, she would have the right.

“I love your sister, Livia, and I always will. I’m hoping, once the baby comes, things will be better. Despite our love for one another, things have never stayed easy and without conflict between the two of us for long.”

“What has she done to make you withdraw? Or- have you done something?”

“No,” he answers. “Neither. Hopefully, when the baby comes-”

“Benvolio Montague, I believe you’ve never said something you knew to be untrue to my sister. Yet, here I sit, still charging you with dishonesty towards her. I’m a sadder person than I was even after losing my parents. Paris- He broke me, in some ways. Not completely, however. I’m a much stronger woman for all the pain. Do as you will, but if your hurt of my sister escalates, I swear, my lord, I’ll see you pay.”

She stands. “And know that, if you should ever wish to stop hurting her, you need only be honest with me, and I swear, I will try to help you. More than anything, I want happiness and safety for Rosaline and any of my nieces and nephews.”

With a curtsy, she leaves.

…

When Rosaline gets home, he presents her with the bear figurine he chiselled out, and gasping, she hugs him tightly. “Thank you.”

“Of course. No forest theme is complete without bears. I’ll make some more and, then, get started on the birds and butterflies.” Carefully setting it aside so he can wash his hands, he continues, “Your sister came out, and she and I had a very- unnerving conversation. I-”

“Are you in love with Livia?”

He knows she hurled another absurd question at him, but whatever it was, he absolutely knows it wasn’t what he heard.

“If you are- she and I both deserve to know.”

Except, apparently, it was. “What? Are you utterly mad? No!”

“I used to dread the thought of being married to you. Carrying your child,” she announces. “It was a Hell Escalus was sentencing me to. You convinced me otherwise, Montague, but now, my predications and fear have become true.”

He sighs. “I didn’t convince you to marry me or consummate our marriage once we had, Capulet. You willingly agreed to both. I’m sorry you’re regretting it, now. If I had had more sense, if I hadn’t let myself believe certain things, I would have been the one to wish you well, gather my horse, and ride out of this city. No one would have stopped me, and I-”

“You’d be happier than you are now,” she flatly finishes. “Well, fake your death, then. Or simply take your money, gather your most prized horse, and leave. It’s not as if the House of Montague hasn’t had far worse stains on its name.”

He takes several breaths to calm his anger. “That child you’re carrying is mine, Capulet. I have a claim to him or her. I know you’d never hurt him or her, but if you try to deny me a place in my child’s life-”

A sob breaks out, and she unsteadily makes her way over to a chair.

Hurriedly following her, he holds his shaking hand out but doesn’t make contact.

When she sits down, he slides down against a nearby wall.

“Do you wish you had a wife more like Livia?”

“What- For the love of God, Rosaline, explain where such insane ideas are coming from. I truly don’t want to insult your sister, but you don’t know me at all if you think I’d ever look twice at a woman such as her.”

As predicted, Rosaline glares at him.

Aside from feeling pity for the widowed woman who was tricked into marriage by a traitor, he likely would have gotten along with Livia back when Montagues and Capulets were enemies. From what he can gather, she was sweet, kind, and calm. She accepted her lot in life easily enough, wished peace and safety on her family and the city, and was full of dreams for herself and sister.

He knows most consider her the more traditionally beautiful of the two Capulets.

Rosaline’s sharper features and stronger build are much more interesting to study and try to capture in the arts, and he’s never been excited by the manners of those such as Livia and Juliet. He doesn’t dislike them or object to being around them, but someone with strong thoughts and feelings and the courage to speak them have always attracted him.

“She is my sister-in-law, and for that, I love her. I don’t, have never, and will never desire her. She lives with us, because, that’s what you wanted for her, and I’ve never had a reason to object. Aside from having no desire of my own to do her harm, I endeavour to be kind to her, because, I won’t have a wife for much longer if I ever do any sort of harm to her. Beyond you, I’m sorry for her, and I care for her as a young girl done wrong, but we both know, or I thought we both knew, that without you, I’d take no true interest in her or her situation.”

“You ask of her when she doesn’t eat with us. When I first told you of the baby, you mentioned her.”

“As of late, her absence from meals is a sure sign I’m about to be subjected to ridiculous questions accusing me of all manner of things. I can’t imagine why I might wish to avoid that, Capulet. And yes, I mentioned your sister, my sister-in-law, when we were talking about our family. If I recall correctly, all I did was say something about how she often uses the address of Lady Capulet rather than any of the titles the prince allowed her to keep.”

She rubs her eyes, and he realises with a pang how tired she looks.

“Please, Benvolio, just grant me an honest answer. You don’t want my bed or body, anymore. It started before we knew for sure I was pregnant, so, I know it’s not a fear of somehow hurting the baby. Even if it was, that wouldn’t make you want to avoid simply sleeping next to me. Every time I try to bring it up, whether I do it gently or with force, you manage to avoid answering.”

Before he can respond, she continues, “The baby will be here, soon. This baby of my blood and yours. I don’t want him or her to grow up in a house like Juliet’s. My aunt and uncle both loved her more than anything, and they never let her doubt that. But they had no love for one another, and this was no secret. She married him for his title, and why he married her- I’m not sure. After they had their heir, I doubt they ever- I love you. I thought- I knew it was the same for you. Now, I don’t know what has, but you don’t feel the same, anymore. Just tell me why.”

“I feel the same for you as I always have.”

“You once hated me.”

Shaking his head, he leans further against the wall. “I didn’t have particularly kind feelings for you, but I never hated you, Capulet. That was you, and please, don’t insult either me or yourself by denying it. I have loved you for long before we were married. I always will. You are the only woman I want. But you can’t expect me to touch a woman I know might be imagining someone else in my place. You can’t expect me to lay beside you and be tormented with wondering if you’re imagining, wishing for someone else. I’ll take the cold honesty of my own bed, thank you.”

She looks at him as if he’s the mad one.

“Escalus.”

“Yes, of course, him,” he bitterly responds. “Who else? Who else but the one you kissed right after our engagement was announced?”

“You didn’t want the engagement, then, either,” she snaps. “You cannot hold that against me anymore than I can hold you and Stella being together after the announcement. When you and I decided on our own to marry and announced it, you were the only one I kissed, and I did it both privately and in a room full of people.”

“We weren’t technically in a room.”

The look in her eyes makes him glad she has nothing close enough to throw, though, if he keeps pushing it, she does have her shoes and possibly things in her pockets.

“Do you deny you still desire him? That he doesn’t appear in your dreams?”

“Yes,” she hotly responds. “I deny both, and I would with my hand on any holy text you’d care to have sworn by.”

Wiping his tears, he tries not to scoff. “Then, you simply don’t remember. I wouldn’t call you a liar, but I know what I saw and heard. Do you know you sometimes talk in your sleep?”

“Yes,” she answers. “Livia and Juliet have both told me so. What did I say that convinced you of- this?”

He’s so tempted to walk out.

“‘Escalus, come to me. Escalus, you are mine, come to me, now. I love you more than anyone and anything but Livia.’”

There’s silence.

Then, she groans. “I do remember that, now.”

“Good.”

“It actually is, yes,” she responds, and then, she’s managed to ease herself down on the floor in front of him.

“Rosaline, you-”

Grabbing his hand, she squeezes it rather hard. “It’s not going to hurt me or the baby to sit here for a minute. I don’t deny the dream or the words, but I swear to you, the context of them is very different from what you’ve been thinking.”

“Well, this ought to be good,” he sarcastically declares.

She pinches his hand hard enough to make him wince.

“That was when we first started to suspect I was pregnant. I was thinking of christenings and parties and possible engagement parties for our own children. When Princess Isabella was eight, her father held a birthday party for her inside the palace walls, and Livia, Juliet, and I were all invited. We played games. One of those involved Escalus hiding, and whoever found him was to chase him. I dreamed of that party. I had found him, and I was chasing him, demanding he come to me.”

She shudders, and he moves over and carefully puts an arm around her.

“As for the other, the dream changed. I was chasing him, and then, I was with my mother and father. And I told them what I always tell them in my dreams. That, aside from Livia, my love for them will always-”

Feeling completely sick, he wipes away her tears as best he can, squeezes her, and rubs her back. “I’m so sorry.”

“I would have told you all about it if you’d but mentioned it.”

All he can do is repeat, “I’m so sorry, Rosaline.”

Suddenly, they’re kissing, and she’s leading him by hand.

There’s tears, awkwardness, laughter, and declarations of love, and he finds himself wholeheartedly astonished by how much her body has fully changed.  

…

“It was easier when I despised you.”

Burying his head in her hair, he responds, “I know.”

“One of my fears used to be that Livia would marry a man she’d have to beg affection from, that she’d tear herself up over trying to make him happy. I love you, and I want you to be happy, but I hate feeling helpless and hopeless. You’ve treated me more as a simple friend than the woman you married and promised privately and publicly to always love. You promised you’d always try to make me happy. You promised you’d never keep any big secrets from me. I didn’t even think to tell you about the dream, but it’s not something I intentionally hid. You could have asked about it in the morning, and I would have told you.”

“In fairness, you knew you were marrying an idiot when you said, ‘I do,’” he tentatively offers.

She guides his hand to her stomach, and he almost winces at the ferocity of the kick.

“And you knew that I loved and wanted you when we both did. As a childhood playmate, as a friend, as a good man I’ve helped defend the kingdom with, even as our prince, I’ll always love Escalus. I’ll always look back fondly on our romance. But I married you. Do you think me a liar, or do you think me someone so easily changeable in my affections?”

“You know I don’t think either,” he softly says. “It- it would just be my luck that, once we were married, you discovered me lacking and found yourself wishing for him again. All my life, I’ve never been enough, Capulet. My uncle hates me, if I’d- a different sort of man could have convinced Romeo not to wed Juliet, and we can both admit, if not for very extreme, unusual circumstances, you and I wouldn’t have even gotten to a point where we’d call one another friend, never mind all this.”

He feels her shrug. “I have found you lacking, and it’s made me into the sort of person, the sort of woman, I don’t want to be. Benvolio,” she tugs him so he’s face-to-face with her, “if I ever did have a dream like the one you thought, I don’t know for sure how I’d handle it. I’d hope we could manage to not let it ruin things. But I would not keep it to myself for very long, I swear to you. If I thought you dreamed of Stella or any other in such a way, I wouldn’t deny you my bed but otherwise treat you kindly.”

Kissing him, she says, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She strokes his face. “Now, say, ‘Rosaline Capulet, against her better judgement, at times, loves Benvolio Montague.”

“I know you love me, Capulet.”

“Say it,” she insists.

“Rosaline-”

“Say it.”

Sighing, he looks away, forces himself to look back, and manages to get out, “Rosaline Capulet, God help us both, loves me, and I suspect always will.”

She nods. “And you will never do something like this again.”

“Best just add the, ‘or I shall viciously murder you and use my friendship with the royal family to get away with it,’” he says.

“Even with a Capulet-Montague heir, the public would not forgive the death of a Capulet or Montague at the other’s hand. They really wouldn’t have much of a choice but to imprison me for life for carry out the sentence of death.”

Laughing, he takes great pleasure in her sparkling eyes and the wry curve of her mouth.

…

He’s coming back to the room with some tea and fruit when he hears Livia’s voice. “Rosaline, come with me tonight. If you don’t feel up to the party, you can wait in our chambers. You needn’t suffer sleeping alone just because-”

“I finally got Benvolio to talk,” Rosaline interrupts. “And I’ll tell you about it, soon. For right now, there’s a very good chance he’ll be sleeping in here tonight. Or I’ll be sleeping in his room. Either way, I don’t expect to be alone tonight. So, go and enjoy yourself, Livia.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!”

Cautiously peeking in, he sees the two are hugging.

“Montague,” Rosaline says. She gently detangles herself from her sister. “Escort our Livia to the carriage.”

…

When he gets back to the room, Rosaline is lying with her hand on her stomach. “There hasn’t been as much kicking today, but I can still feel him or her moving about. I think our child will be an excellent swimmer. My parents never allowed Livia and I to swim. They both said it wasn’t ladylike.”

Lying down, he places his hand next to hers. “We’ll try to do better than both our parents, my love. If our daughter wants to be a nun, she’ll be a nun. If either our son or daughter finds themselves in love with the heir of a house we don’t particularly like, they won’t be afraid to come tell us. And if any of our daughters want to swim, then, little mermaids they shall be.”

“Part of me is afraid, despite all our hopes, we won’t be as supportive of unconventionality in our children as we’ve resolved to be. And part of me is afraid- What if they are wildly unconventional? What if they fit into this society more than we ever have?”

He studies her. “I can see there’s something you aren’t saying, Capulet. What is it?”

“Do you think Isabella will ever marry?”

Thinking of how close she is with one of her ladies, a handmaiden from Venice, he answers, “I don’t think she’d love any man she did.”

“Her and I can never be as close as we once were, but- if I were asked to condemn her, I’d condemn the one asking it.”

He shrugs. “Mercutio was cousin to her and the prince, you know. He never would have married a woman. For all he talked in public of carnal pleasures with them, he loved another man. I don’t claim to know God’s judgement, but what I saw made me happy for them and made me wonder if others are wrong.”

“What became of the man after his death?”

“He left Verona after Mercutio’s funeral.”

Rosaline considers this for a moment. “Whatever God’s judgement, none of us will know until we find ourselves facing it. As long as our children are never predatory towards another, I will try to support whoever they love. However, if anyone is predatory towards them or is clearly unworthy of their affections-”

“No one shall ever prove we had anything to do with their disappearance,” he interjects.

She laughs. “Yes.” Turning slightly, she says, “There are some interesting texts I’ve read that suggest certain Bible passages were not how Jesus himself felt. If any of our children are different in such a way, I’ll tell them it’s better they be true to themselves, guided by the father, son, and holy spirit, than to any opinion of man.”

“Do you ever regret not becoming a nun?”

“It was a road to freedom. I’m free, now, with you. No.”

The guilt deepens. “Except, you haven’t been, recently.”

“But I am again, now. Just as I was when we first married. Do you ever regret-”

“All I regret is the pain I’ve caused as of late,” he firmly replies. Moving closer, he says, “I didn’t know sleeping alone-” He pauses.

“It’s not something I particularly care for or am used to. I had my own room growing up, but I’d often sleep with my parents as a small child. They always shared a room. Later, when Livia was young, she often slept with me. When our aunt and uncle took us in, we slept together with the other servants and, on occasion, secretly in Juliet’s bed with her. As long as Livia is here, I never have to worry. If she ever leaves- I’m not going to beg my husband to share a bed if he’d clearly be doing so out of some sort of obligation rather than a desire.”

“I’ve never stopped desiring you,” he quietly tells her.

“It was worse. There were times I wondered about your love.”

Sighing, he pulls her close. “Again, I’m so sorry.”

“You wondered about mine.”

He doesn’t know how to respond.

Groaning slightly, she sits up. “The baby and I need more than tea and fruit. Let’s go see if the cook has started dinner, yet.”

…

After supper, he wraps around her and rests a hand on her stomach.

Several times, he wakes up to feel the baby kicking or her shifting positions, and each time, he thinks, Please, God, I don’t know how to be a good husband or father, but if you help me, I’ll try my best. I don’t ever want to hurt her again, and the thought of hurting our children in such a way, making them doubt my love- please, God, help me.

…

Guards enter his cell, and Damiano wearily asks, “Has the prince decided I’m to die?”

“No, my lord,” one of the younger, friendlier guards answers. “You’re to have a very special visitor, one not fit for such a place as this.”

“Princess Isabella? A holy man or woman?”

They refuse to say anymore, and he soon finds himself chained to a chair in a simple room. Raising his hand as best he can to shield himself from the sun coming from the window, he says, “At least, tell me when this person is to come.”

One of the guards opens the door and bows. “My lord and lady. We’ll be right outside.”

Damiano feels his breath catch and tears start to form when his nephew and Lady Rosaline enter.

In Benvolio’s arms is a small baby matching Lady Rosaline in colour with a full head of thick, curly hair. It’s not the crinkly hair Lady Rosaline has when hers is unplaited but the soft, almost fluffy, full curls Benvolio had as a small child, and he desperately wishes he could see the baby’s eyes. Does he or she have Lady Rosaline’s large, almost doe like brown eyes, or does he or she have Benvolio’s almost transparent pale eyes that can look blue or green depending on the light?

Clearing his throat, he manages to steadily say, “I heard the bells earlier, but I never thought you’d come. Boy or girl?”

Lady Rosaline steps forward and stares down at him. “I don’t blame you for Juliet and Romeo’s deaths, my lord. The hatred and unreasonableness of many, including to, an extent, me ruined a plan that would have given peace and hopefully made both forever happy. If that and the feuding you engaged in with my uncle were all you were guilty of, I’d have championed on your behalf.”

Knowing what’s coming, he sits quietly.

“You denied my motherless husband his father, and then, you inflicted further cruelty on him for years. More than just stealing his birthright, you made him doubt he was worthy of love. You made him believe he had no real worth. No one should be made to feel that way, but-” She sighs.

Looking at his nephew, Damiano feels a pang. The couple has come together, but there’s been trouble in their marriage. In something he never would have believed, he can see Lady Rosaline loves Benvolio deeply, and her unsaid words are: He himself has personally wronged her by forcing her as a loving wife to contend with the damage inflicted on Benvolio.

“This is the first and last time you’ll see the heir to our house,” she informs him. “She is the best thing he and I have ever done. She is the refutation he is worthless, because, I assure you, my lord, no unworthy man could have helped make such a child. And we will do better than you and all other Montagues and Capulets have done for her and any of her brothers or sisters. They’ll know they are the best and most precious, that we value them more than anything: Titles, land, power.”

“She,” he repeats. He looks at Benvolio. “You’ve had a daughter. What’s her name? Please, tell me.”

“It won’t do you any good to wonder about her or any others we might have,” she dispassionately states.

Walking back over to Benvolio, she gently kisses his lips and kisses their daughter’s head. “Go on, my love.”

He thinks they’re going to leave and is shocked when Benvolio walks over. “Here.”

The chains, he discovers, allow him to hold the baby, and he feels the tears falling freely. She is so small, and just as Romeo did, she pokes her tongue in and out as she sleeps.

Benvolio wipes his face, and he begs, “Tell me her name. What colour are her eyes?”

As if on cue, she opens them, and uncomprehending of his tears, makes a happy garbling sound as she stares up at him.


End file.
